The Ghost of the Magnificent Seven
by Selryam
Summary: Whale Talk. A brief look at the life of the quietest team member, Jackie Craig. Introspection.


Frankly, I don't know how well I pulled this off. There really is very little to go off of; but that's pretty much why I wrote about him. I wanted the challenge, and I wanted to impress my teacher p. Yup, this was my _Whale Talk_ project: a chapter written from the perspective of another character.

**Disclaimer: **_**Whale Talk**_** is owned by Chris Crutcher. Not me.**

--

I've always been a shy person. I'm quiet, and I'm awkward in dealing with other people. So, I guess I'm the shy, quietly awkward kid.

This is probably because I don't interact with anyone. Even as a kid, I never drew attention to myself, and there's nothing about me that draws attention. I've got light brown hair, I'm not too thin or too fat or too tall or too short, and my face is perfectly average; I'm a classic John Doe. But I really don't want to be John Doe. I want friends who will recognize me as Jackie Craig.

I just never talked much. I never had anyone to talk to, since both of my parents were – and still are – always too busy. And what are they so preoccupied with? Working. They're not workaholics who sacrifice family life for some corporation somewhere; they're workers who have to sacrifice family life to earn enough money to get by.

My father is a garbage man. As you might guess, that fact brought me a lot of unnecessary grief in middle school. I remember my third grade teacher, Miss Bennett, asking me what my father did.

"…He's a garbage man." I muttered, not because I was ashamed, but because I always spoke quietly when I had to speak. Well, I soon found that I had reason to be ashamed.

"A _garbage man_?!" echoed an obnoxious, loud-mouthed kid, "Did you hear that? Jackie's dad is a garbage man!" he crowed to my intense embarrassment. Even though the teacher scolded him and the other laughing kids, I was really hurt, and it was an eye-opener. Was it that bad to be a garbage man? Should I have been ashamed of my father from the beginning?

I would never have thought so, before they laughed at it. I mean, my father's always been fine with himself and his job. He's really nice and patient… but I hardly see him. He works every single day, but I don't think he does the same work. Sometimes he rides around town, collecting people's trash; other days he does… something at a landfill, or somewhere else. Well, the end result is not much time at home, which isn't very fun for me. Actually, though, even when he is home, my dad is a bit aloof. If I ask him for something, he'll usually do it, but he hardly comes up to me on his own. He sits with my mother and works around the house, but I guess I'm not so close with him.

My mother is a bit more involved with me, but she's also a bit more rough. Her behavior is inconsistent: she usually tends to me with care, but at times she's just angry and irrational, and it always shows. My mom can't handle people as well as my father can. That's probably why she couldn't hold a job as a salesperson. Currently, she works in the back of Walmart, organizing merchandise. Well, she stayed at home with me until I was six, when I was enrolled in kindergarten. Then, she left for Walmart while I went to school, and I was watched by my neighbor, a responsible seventh grade boy, until she came home.

A turning point came in my young life when my mom, in a fit of dull bitterness, told me that she and my father weren't ready for me when I came, that I wasn't meant to happen, that I _was a mistake_. I had asked why daddy didn't love me as much, and the answer sent me reeling. I showed this by bawling my eyes out (which I didn't do often, even though I was only a first-grader), and she apologized and held me and patted my back, but the damage was done, irreversibly so. I understood enough that it forever affected me. Apparently in their first year of college, the two met, dated each other for a couple of months, forgot to use a condom in some drunken revelry, discovered my existence, and promptly dropped out. But those few months were magical enough to keep them together despite all the hardships, which must've been pretty intimidating. Father was an orphan with no known family, and my mother's parents were furious at him for impregnating her and at her for getting pregnant. When she refused to abort the baby, they cast her off onto the streets, never to see their shameful daughter again.

I can barely imagine what they must've gone through to get by. Still, their situation contributed to my self-esteem issues. I was essentially alone most of the day. I was quieter than most in kindergarten, which probably set the precedent for my behavior in first to seventh grades, sadly. Maybe my appearance was a factor. Whatever the reason, no one approached me with the words, "Hey, wanna be friends?" At home, the neighbor only made sure I didn't kill myself as he played on the computer or did homework. He was kinda like Father, I thought, but meaner. He wasn't really mean, though. He was harder to approach and less likely to entertain my fancies.

So I spent a lot of time in silence with a longing – a need, really – to fill the horrid emptiness. And what did I fill it with? Luckily, not something that would fry my brain, like an obsession with television or video games. Actually, it was a hobby (a few steps below obsession) that probably didn't help my social standing: reading. I delighted in the vibrant pictures and tantalizing words of Dr. Seuss. I first read Green Eggs and Ham when the cover caught my eye at my neighbor's house. It wasn't too long after my mother's confession (probably two months at the most – it felt longer back then), and when the boy consented, I poured over the storybook with wide-eyed fascination. (It was so much cooler than the boring workbooks at school!)

It all went from there. For the next week or so, I read and reread that book like devout Christians read the Bible. When my mother walked in to see me with that same book for the fifth time, she told me she'd go to the "library" to get other books like it the next day. I was ecstatic. After a month, I'd read every Dr. Seuss book she brought me at least 10 times each. My absolute favorite was Oh, the Places You'll Go. Could I go places like that boy did someday? Well, I'd definitely try. Definitely.

When I stop and think about myself – about my life and my past, about my thoughts and my social skills – I find that I can be rational and impartial, even to myself. Sometimes. Like now. Maybe all the reading I've done (since I have read a lot of emotional stories) had given me perspective. Maybe all my life experience (since I'm a junior in high school now) has given me patience. Whatever the case, I look back and I see how those conditions shaped my psyche. I see how things happened and how they made me into the Jackie Craig that people know me by today. And I believe that's important for me if I'm to move forward, to grow mentally and emotionally. Yes, I've been shy and I'm sometimes weak and my self-image needs improving. But I want to grow and be the best I can be. Yeah, that sounds a bit corny, but it's important to me.

So I start by trying out for football.

--

I've been doing football for a week now, but I'm not very good. Coach has told me numerous times to grow a backbone and _tackle_ the other guy, but… it's hard. Ugh. I'm such a wimp. I'm not really big enough for this, or strong enough. I'm too slow, and I'm horrible at throwing that stupid ball the correct way, and I can't focus enough to put all my might into mowing down the big, burly guys in my way. What was I hoping for in this? I'm such a failure at sports.

I haven't made any friends, either. Football is such a big sport at Cutter High that I hoped I could connect with someone, since it's a team sport and a lot of guys try out… Well, this was just a stupid idea. I managed to introduce myself to a slightly sympathetic sophomore, and he introduced me to his clique of himself and five other guys, but they don't really pay any attention to me. I kind of stand near them during practice, but they're really off in their own bubble where I can't touch them.

On a slightly better day a few days later, I'm heading to my locker as practice ends when Coach Benson calls me over.

He gives me a short little speech about football and my shoddy performance and how much one needs to give to the game and the team, and it all boils down to the decimating fact that I simply "don't have what it takes to be a Cutter football player". I've been cut. Bye-bye, Jackie. You're not good enough. Go somewhere else.

Part of me knew it was coming, I think. I jog to my locker, gather my stuff, and prepare to head home. The guys I stand around walk past, chatting and laughing without a care in the world. I weakly call out a "bye guys", but they don't seem to hear me, and none of them so much as glance at me. I reflect on the day during my two-mile walk home.

I try to talk to others, to socialize, to make friends. I do. I really try. But at times, it's just depressing when I'm such an insignificant wisp of nothing that no one notices. It's like I'll never amount to anything, and I'll always be alone feeling miserable and terrible with no one to talk to and no one to help me because they wouldn't care about a quiet kid who sucks at football and I'm so _stupid_ and it's all so _pointless_!

…Am I crying? Jeez. After a moment, I sigh. This is me at my lowest. I guess it's true: "loneliness is the worst pain man can suffer", or something like that. I can't remember who said that, or exactly what it was. It doesn't matter.

And so I walk home, and in the end, like so many times before, all I can do is trudge forward and hope that tomorrow will be a better day.

--

Eventually, I do have a good day. On Wednesday the following week, I receive a letter from T.J. Jones, in which he asks me to join the new swim team he's going to lead. He asked _me_ to join _his_ team! I'm never picked for anything! Furthermore, T.J. is an amazing athlete. He's well-known around school for being outspoken (maybe a bit _too_ outspoken – his temper gets him in trouble sometimes) and a "slacker" because he refuses to participate in the school sports. I saw him, once, at Hoopfest, a street basketball tournament. His shots and movements were incredible! And now he's inviting me, personally, to swim on a team? I can hardly believe it. I have no idea why… but I won't pass this chance up. Football was a disaster for me, but I'm an alright swimmer. At the very least, I won't drown in the All Night pool. T.J. is a nice guy, so I'll do my best, and maybe this will work out for me.

I have to try.

--

I tried to have a similar style/tone to T.J.'s narrative… Please tell me how that worked out (Good? Bad? Acceptable?). Looking over this, I feel like it's just too emo. This was written back in June… I don't like it now, but I'm not going to change it. You know, I don't really remember how _Oh, the Places You'll Go_ went; so I fabricated something. Please review, even if you've only a few words. I want to hear them.


End file.
